


Homecoming

by sasha_bo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Dark, M/M, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, post season 3B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:45:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1192434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_bo/pseuds/sasha_bo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had fought to free the boy, but had ultimately failed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, please heed the tags. You have been warned so please don't complain if you don't like the content. It is dark fiction so there is dark context. Any tags missing, please message me.

Derek walked down the deserted streets of Beacon Hills, trying to tie the scene in front of him to the lively streets he had grown up with. He remembered how it used to be, streets filled with colour and laughter. You couldn’t walk down the streets without avoiding children - hyped up on sugar from the ice-cream shop that was next to the supermarket while parents sat outside the local café enjoying their lattes in the warmth of the Californian sun.

Now there were no children, no parents and no sun. It seemed that Beacon Hills was now destined to survive under a perpetual cloud of darkness. Shop windows were boarded up, those that weren’t had been looted ages ago. Burnt out shells of the cars which had been long abandoned still smoked, polluting the air with smoke and warning. Those who were able to had fled when the riots started but Derek, Derek couldn’t. He had tried, they all had but every time he had left, he just ended up back in Beacon Hills. He travelled north, never straying from a straight line and ended back here. Same when he went South, East and West. He couldn’t escape.

He glanced up at the shell of the building which used to be his apartment, knowing he shouldn’t have come back but he and Isaac were quickly running out of weapons which they needed to fight off the rest of the pack and this was the only place they knew some had been stored. Climbing up the stairs, he thought back to how they had come to this point. Stiles.

They had fought to free the boy, but had ultimately failed. The nogitsune was too powerful, fed from the chaos and strife that was paramount in Beacon Hills and the nemeton and one by one, the pack had turned, influenced by Stiles, prisoners in their own minds. They now worked to his orders, and those orders had been to ruin Beacon Hills. Citizens had whispered about the gang of youths with glowing eyes who had turned their white picket suburbia into a war zone. It had only taken a few weeks of fire, bombs and death before the last had fled. Until there was only two that were left, fighting to survive. The pack had been occupied with the town; Stiles on the other hand turned his attention to Derek.

Derek had thought over why his fixation was based on him, they weren’t close and even though they had had their disagreements, Derek knew for a fact that there were others whom had treated the boy worse in the town. That was if they were lucky to have been able to leave. At the beginning, bodies and blood had been common in every street. Now that had decreased with the lack of people, but Stiles torment hadn’t. It wasn’t even about power. Scott was the one with the power, the Alpha, and he had been turned months ago. Scott was the first, then Lydia, Allison, Peter, Chris and Melissa. Derek had no clue as to what had happened to the sheriff; he only hoped that enough of Stiles had survived to take mercy on John. Derek had supposed that this was one of Stiles’ methods of torture to the wolf, by taking his pack, his lifeline away from him.

It had begun slowly. The time when they had all first realised when Stiles wasn’t himself anymore. The taunts, the damage was all to show that Stiles was no longer weak. Derek hadn’t fully understood how daunting it was to lose time, to not be sure if he was awake or asleep. That was until it had begun happening to him. He used the techniques which Scott had told him Stiles had used, but the panic was still there. He would wake up in the middle of the Hale house, blood on his hands and the burning embers of a fire next to him with no memory of what he had done. That was when they began to realise the extent of control Stiles had. He was getting into their heads, controlling their minds and their memories. The moment of realisation was when Stiles had controlled Scott to attack his father, killing the man. From that point, it was just biding time until Stiles fully overtook somebodies mind. It just happened to be Scott’s. Everyone else fell quickly after that. All apart from Derek and Isaac.

As the pack fell one by one, the personal taunts from Stiles to Derek continued. First it was the exhumed body of Laura which appeared hanged in the woods, blood trail leading from the front of the Hale house to where she was hanging. Next were the parts of Jennifer which randomly appeared throughout the town, finalised by her head bobbing up and down in the school swimming pool, water now a red from blood. Erica and Boyd appeared after Jennifer, bodies propped on top of the flag poles on what was once known as Beacon Hills High. The incident which had caused Isaac and Derek to abandon the loft was when Derek had awoke from a short nap to the decomposing body of Kate Argent propped up in his bed next to him, eyes dead but face morphed into a smile. The scent of Stiles surrounded the body. Derek glanced out the window of his room to see the boy stood on the street, looking directly at Derek, complete with blood on his hands and a sick smirk on his face. After that, they moved to different locations around the town, never settling for more than a few weeks. They had narrowed down the optimal time for moving as early in the afternoon, the pack seeming to prefer to work under the shadows of the night. This was the first time Derek had come back to the loft.

Sliding open the front door, his eyes started to burn with the putrid smell of blood, death and decay, scent so strong that Derek struggled to breathe. Stepping foot into the loft, he was met with the vision which accompanied the smells. The floor of the loft was littered with wolves and blood. Or rather, parts of wolves. No one body was whole. Derek carefully made his way to the stairs which lead to his room that had some of the last weapons they had. The tang of blood changed as he made his way up the stairs. Changing from an animal tang to a human one. Closing his eyes, he made his way to the top of the stairs and composed himself before he was again confronted by something else from his past…. _Not Paige, please not Paige…_ It wasn’t Paige.

Derek couldn’t look away from the bloodied face of John. The eyes which reminded him of Stiles were looking back at him, dead and glazed. Shit, Stiles had killed his own father. Johns arm was overhanging on the bed, blood still dripping down from his hand, covering his wedding band. Above the bed, Stiles had painted a message in the sheriff’s blood:

**_Welcome home sourwolf._ **

 

 

 

They were based in a bungalow which had been abandoned when the first wave of riots had begun. Isaac had foraged some wood to nail it to the windows and doors. They would remain in the bungalow until the next time they switched residence. They had stockpiled food and water to last them for this leg of their stay. It was too dangerous to keep dipping outside for resources; Derek had taken a big chance in just going for the weapons. He had debated trying to give the sheriff a proper burial, but knew it would be wasted. Stiles had proved he had no issue in disturbing burial sites. The attacks were getting worse; Isaac had just managed to survive the last one. Even with his advanced healing, he still had the scars from Scott’s claws. Derek was worse, he could feel Stiles in his mind, pushing and pulling. He knew the end was near.

Isaac was seated on a dusty couch, the thread and flower-print pattern warn, sharpening one of the few knifes that they had. They had started with guns, weapons that were now useless with the lack of ammunition. They had taken as much as they could from Chris’s stockpile but after the consistent attacks, they were left with none. The room was cold, the town supply of electricity had been cut off weeks ago and neither of them dared to light a fire in the hope that the pack did not know where they were. Both knew deep down that it was a naive hope, Stiles had the run of the town and knew fine well where they were at any given moment. The incident at the loft demonstrated that he even knew what they were going to do before even they knew.

A sigh sounded from Isaac followed by a clattering of objects hitting the floor “Fuck man I’m tired”

Derek looked at the boy, studying his features. His face had sunk and drawn in, hair lank and bags under his eyes. Derek knew how he felt, as he felt it as well. He went and sat beside the boy before wrapping his arm around his shoulder and tugging him into his side. They often did this, for no other reason than the comfort of contact. Isaac sighed before burying his face further into Derek’s chest and wrapping his arms around his waist, following the older wolf as he laid himself down on the couch. The two of them lay wrapped around each other as they slowly drifted off to sleep, to the dream he had every night since the nogitsune had taken over.

The memory of how Stiles had come to him, how they had fallen into bed after intense words and revelations; how Derek had let his walls fall and let Stiles in. Given himself over to him in a way he vowed he wouldn’t after Kate. Confessions of love and want. Realisation of Stiles' grip tightening around his neck periodically with unnatural strength. The taunts as Stiles presence changed and told Derek that they boy had really loved him, but he was no longer the boy. Knife's cutting into his flesh and spilling his blood but still unable to fight him off or cause him harm. Stiles’ smirk and promise of later as Isaac pulled the nogitsune off of Derek, telling him that Scott had killed his own father. His last image was of Stiles, stood on top of the nemeton, surrounded by the rest of his pack. He slowly brought up his hand to wave at Derek, the bloodied knife still in his grasp.

Derek awoke in the middle of the night, with fogginess in his brain. All he could hear were the words ‘end is neigh’ repeating around his head. Isaac twitched with movement but Derek; Derek knew what he had to do. He couldn’t stop himself. When he was younger, he used to be obsessed with zombies, always wondered what it would feel like to be one. Now he knew. He slowly stood up and moved to the door, studying it.

_Let me in Derek_

He tried to shout no, tried to move away but instead saw his arms rise to one of the wooden slacks which had been nailed to the front door and wrapped his hands around it.

“Derek, what are you doing?” Isaac asked, voice heavy from sleep. His voice felt like it was miles away; the voice in his head felt like it came from someone whispering to him in his ear.

_Let me in_

He couldn’t stop himself as his grip tightened and he pulled away the piece of wood, throwing it to the side. He repeated the motion with the next piece of wood, and then the next.

He could barely feel the tight grip Isaac had on his arm “Shit man stop. You are going to let them in. Fuck Derek STOP!”

He couldn’t stop, not until every last one was removed. Isaacs’s shouts increased but he didn’t understand, Derek HAD to do this. He knew Stiles was outside and deep down he knew that this was Stiles doing this with his body but part of him didn’t care anymore. He missed the boy, he needed him, even if it was only for a few hours before Stiles got bored and killed him. The last piece of wood was removed, leaving the front door bare. His hand wrapped around the handle and pulled it open.

Derek couldn’t remember the last time he was outside in the dark. The crescent mood was the only form of light as it illuminated Stiles as he stood in the garden, the rest of the pack surrounding him.

“Derek please, fight it. You need to fight it. Don’t let him do this” Isaac urgently whispered into Derek’s ears, even though his eyes never left Stiles, watching as a smirk formed on his face.

“No, no he can’t fight it. Not anymore”

It was true. He couldn’t.


End file.
